


if change is what you need (you can change right next to me)

by SincerelyKleinman



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, alana-jared bff solidarity, alternating pov, delving really deep into how jared and evan felt about their relationship, depressed characters, it's really gay, lots of alana praise in this fic, makes use of images for texting and tweets and such so be sure you can load images, she's a good friend, will add more character tags as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 04:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyKleinman/pseuds/SincerelyKleinman
Summary: In the aftermath of The Connor Project, Evan and Jared try to move on, change, and grow.They learn that the growing doesn't have to happen on their own.





	if change is what you need (you can change right next to me)

**Author's Note:**

> _Walking into my room is being assaulted with memories that are no longer welcome. I look at my computer desk and think of those damn emails. I look at my bed and think of the many sleepovers we’d had throughout the years. I look at tv and think of all the boring nature documentaries I’d put on to help him fall asleep. Every inch of this room is tainted by Evan Hansen and it isn’t fair._
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> **Jared POV**

Have you ever wanted to do something you knew was going to hurt you? It’s like when your dentist tells you no solid foods, but you eat an entire porkchop anyway and end up having to dig chunks of meat out of the holes where your wisdom teeth used to be.

It’s like when you drink more than half of your parents’ liquor cabinet, puke everything up an hour later, and then have to explain to them where all their booze went.

It’s like offering to write emails pretending to be a dead kid in a vain attempt to spend time with someone who probably doesn’t want you around anyway.

It’s like wanting nothing more then to call that person because part of you would rather hear them say they hate you than never hear from them again.

Puffy red eyes and trembling lips have been an increasingly frequent sight in my bathroom mirror. I can feel my fingers twitching as I grip the edge of the sink, mismatched irises flickering to the cell phone sitting next to my electric toothbrush.

The self sabotage needs to stop at some point, I’ve decided.

I won’t call him, but I’ll think about it. I’ll think about telling him I’m sorry for being such a horrible friend. I’ll entertain the thought of him being sorry too; sorry for using me, sorry for dragging me along on this whirlwind lies.

I can remember so clearly how afraid I’d always been that Evan would get rid of me the second someone better came along.

It’s depressing to discover I was right.

Though, I know the sad truth that distancing myself to avoid letting him hurt me only fed into how little he actually cared about me.

I’d read his letter. It was impossible not to; the thing was everywhere. I’d read it and I wish I hadn’t. Maybe if I had just been honest, he would’ve been too. Maybe we could’ve been real friends.

I guess that was a form of self sabotage too.

I hadn’t noticed I was crying again until I felt wet droplets splash against my knuckles. I’m so tired of crying.

I grab my phone off the bathroom counter and head back to my room across the hall.

Walking into my room is being assaulted with memories that are no longer welcome. I look at my computer desk and think of those damn emails. I look at my bed and think of the many sleepovers we’d had throughout the years. I look at tv and think of all the boring nature documentaries I’d put on to help him fall asleep. Every inch of this room is tainted by Evan Hansen and it isn’t fair.

My fingers twitch. I check my phone. No new messages; no missed calls. I don’t know what I expected.

It’s hard to move on when these bad habits linger.

I burrow into my three most comfortable blankets, flat, worn pillows surrounding me as I turn on my xbox and load up Netflix. My fingers twitch every time I scroll past a nature documentary. I settle on The Office, a show Evan could never quite get into.

It’s funny how even a show Evan didn’t like could make me think of him anyway.

Tainted.

I remember there was a time where Evan used to make me feel lighter than air itself. He’d smile in that nervous way he always did; like he was so happy but so afraid for anyone else to see. I couldn’t help but smile back every single time, masked with a cruel joke so he’d never know he was the only one who could make me smile like that.

I can’t hate Evan for being a liar. I’ve been lying to him for so long, it’s only fair.

His lies were beautiful things. After we’d started writing the emails, he made me feel like maybe, _just maybe_ , he didn’t only stick around because he had no other friends. Maybe he actually cared about me.

Just like he made Zoe believe Connor actually cared about her.

Just like he made Alana believe he actually cared about The Connor Project.

His lies were comforting and addicting, but they were lies, nonetheless. Untrue, fabricated stories spun because he was so afraid of what others would think of him. It’s funny how selfish his method of ‘helping’ others was.

Still, sometimes I wish he’d lie to me again.

My phone buzzes and I nearly fall off my bed. My breath catches in my throat, and my heart hammers loudly in my chest. My fingers twitch. I check the notification.

It’s Alana. Of course it’s Alana; it’s always Alana. I don’t know why I thought it’d be any different.

She’s trying to get me out of the house. She’s been doing that for a few weeks now. I almost feel bad. Alana is a good friend. Meeting her is probably the one good thing to come out of this whole fiasco.

She’d hate me if she knew what I did.

It’s not a lie. I’ve been feeling so tired these past few days. It’s like just doing basic everyday things like eating and showering wears me out.

It’s actually 7:13, but I know that doesn’t make a difference. I feel bad for making Alana worry. I know she’s checking in on me because she doesn’t want me to feel alone. She never wants anyone to feel alone. She’s just a good, genuine person. I’m lucky to have a friend who cares about me. One who isn’t afraid _to show_ that she cares about me. Alana has never complained about me being her only friend; she’s never treated me like my friendship isn’t enough for her. Alana never makes me feel like she’ll be gone the second she finds better friends. She’s a ride or die bitch, and we’re in this together.

My fingers twitch. I look at my phone.

Maybe it’s time I started breaking these bad habits. Maybe, instead of letting myself drown in the memories in this room, I could create new ones here. Maybe I can learn to find comfort in things that don’t hurt me. I’m so tired of wanting to do things that hurt me.

It’s small, but it’s a start.

After all, the self sabotage needs to stop at some point.

**Author's Note:**

> Really excited to kick this fic off. Each chapter is going to be based on a song from Ben's new album.  
> Thanks so much for checking it out. Be sure to leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed it!


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